Hallia Rekh
by Faerie Seer
Summary: Hallia Rekh is a District 11 girl who volunteers for the Hunger Games. (Rated T for violence-well, duh. Fighting to the death...)


Hi! I'm Faerie. This is my first fanfiction, so please don't bash me too much.

Hallia: Your first one? That doesn't inspire confidence...

Faerie: Why?

Hallia: Why am I in an amateur's fanfiction?

Faerie: Hallia! You are not usually like this!

Hallia: I know. Sorry. I'm just really worried you're going to mortally wound me.

Faerie: Mwahaha! I mean, well, uh, actually...

* * *

Hallia Rekh didn't mean to volunteer for the Hunger Games.

Hallia was soft-spoken, gentle, and timid. Her wavy, glossy hair fell just below her shoulders, and her gold-flecked green eyes were shy. Dark-skinned and somewhat short, one would look at her and never imagine her hurting a fly. Truly, she never imagined herself harming any living creature either. In any case, for one to start at the beginning of her decision to volunteer for the Games would be for one to start at Reaping Day morning.

That fateful morning, Hallia woke up stiff and rigid. She couldn't bring herself to get off her straw mattress that lay directly on the floor. She decided she wouldn't move from this spot until the Reaping was over.

Unfortunately, Ahmed, her brother, drew the curtain that separated their room into two halves and ruined her plan: "Hallia, get up. You're not paralyzed."

Hallia forced herself to stand, but she couldn't stop her hands trembling.

"Hallia," Ahmed said, never one to make small talk, "your name is only in there twice. There are hundreds of names in there."

That's what he thought. Being thirteen, Hallia should have only had her name in the Reaping Ball twice. But unbeknownst to her family, her name was in there eight more times for tesserae. She had secretly signed up for tesserae last year, when she was only twelve. Her parents and Ahmed had been suspicious of the extra oil and grain, but she had assured them she had found a man who was willing to pay extra for the family's rare mutated silver apples that others paid painfully little for.

"Ahmed, how many times is yours in there?"

"Let's see...five slips is required for me since I'm sixteen...plus tesserae...that's 25 times."

Hallia felt dizzy. Her name was only in ten times. Her brother was over twice as likely to get picked as she was.

"Hallia, neither of us is going to get picked. Don't worry. Get dressed."

He pulled the curtain closed again. Hallia put on her best frock. It was frayed, its once nearly ankle-length hemline had shot up to her knees, and the bodice and sleeves were much too tight (they would have been unbearable had they not been exceedingly loose before), but she liked how it was green. Green like her eyes. Green like leaves. She pulled her black hair into a braid, and then tied the end with a green ribbon; she'd traded an entire blood orange for that ribbon. After trying to smile at her reflection in the mirror-the mirror had been paid for with three silver apples-she made her way to the other room for a breakfast of cherries, almonds, mockingjay eggs, and the signature bread for District 11: a seed-studded, dark, crescent roll. Though she struggled to swallow even a bite, she couldn't. Her mother couldn't even get her to sip some milk.

She begged, "Please eat, Hallia." But every bite tasted like a pebble. Ahmed forced their mother to stop trying.

Finally, it was time to leave for the Reaping. Although Hallia and Ahmed's parents wanted to join them in the walk there, Ahmed insisted they didn't need a babysitter.

When they arrived, Hallia immediately found Fey, her best friend. "Fey," she said immediately, "how many times is your name in there?"

Fey calculated in her head. "Since I'm thirteen, that's two. Plus my six siblings and Mom and Dad...times two...My name is in there eighteen times."

Hallia's mouth went dry. "It's okay. You won't get picked. You won't get picked." She was reassuring herself more than her friend.

"All righty, everyone, settle down, please!" Savera Keene said, the Capitol woman who drew for the Reaping, said shrilly. "It's time for our two very, very special children to be chosen! Isn't that nice?" She looked overjoyed to plunge her hand into the Ball for the boys. "Let's see. Who's this? Raff Combe! All right, my dear, come on up." A stricken boy three years older than Hallia came up. Rue-she was only eleven, and would be put in the Reaping Ball next year-began to cry as she always did when the first tribute was chosen.

Savera stuck her hand into the Reaping Ball for girls. "Who's this? Ah. Fey Herriot, come up, dear!"

Hallia's mind when blank as she watched her best friend walk up to the stage. Savera cried, "These are our two tributes for the 74th annual Hunger Games!" Then memories raced through Hallia's mind: her and Fey climbing up to the top of an apple tree together when they were very small and needing to be rescued; the two finding a secret spot in an orchard and singing to the mockingjays until their voices were hoarse; them tossing a silver apple back and forth.

In a loud, clear, strong voice, Hallia said, "I volunteer."

* * *

Hallia: I can't believe you did that.

Faerie: It was your own fault!

Hallia: I hate you.

Faerie: But I own you and your family!

Hallia: What about Rue?

Faerie: No...

Hallia: What about the Hunger Games?

Faerie: No again.


End file.
